


Don't Forget

by LadyoftheWoods



Series: Life After the Almost End of Everything [1]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-22 03:29:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20867459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyoftheWoods/pseuds/LadyoftheWoods
Summary: The angels want Aziraphale and Crowley out of the picture. Will they succeed or will other forces prevent their schemes from working?





	1. Forgotten

**Author's Note:**

> Because I literally cannot stop with this series, here's another fic about the boys. I meant to write just a short story but it turned into a multichapter story, so here we go again!

“Azira… Ziraphale! Come on, wake up, wake up you idiot, what happened… what… what did they do?” He opened his eyes, blinking in confusion.   
The man staring down at him with a panicked look on his face seemed vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t quite place him.   
“Who… who are you? What happened?” He sat up, bringing a hand to his head, which pounded in pain. A headache, since he couldn’t feel a bump or bruise anywhere, thank goodness.   
The man had a stricken look on his face as he seemed to struggle for words, eyes pained.   
“You don’t… You don’t know me?” He asked, strangely breathless, voice cracking.   
“I’m afraid I don’t. Have we met before then? Come into the bookshop before, perhaps?” he asked, getting his bearings.   
He was owner of a rare books store in Soho, where he worked and lived. He was currently sitting on the floor near the checkout counter. Had he passed out? That was odd… maybe he should see a doctor.   
He stood, holding the counter for support as his head spun. The man steadied him, face now carefully blank, eyes empty as he swallowed hard.   
“yeah, sure, once or twice.” The man paused, looking him over once, before continuing. “You don’t seem to be feeling well. Maybe you should close up for the day, get some rest.” Aziraphale nodded, barely able to focus over the pounding in his skull.   
“Quite right, yes, I-Oh!” He exclaimed, suddenly standing in his small, second floor bedroom, only the man’s arm around his shoulders keeping him standing at all.   
“I don’t… did we take the stairs? I don’t seem to recall…” he trailed off, of course they’d taken the stairs, how else would they have gotten up here? The man just smiled, something sad slipping into his carefully neutral expression.   
“Course. Must be a migraine, eh? Heard those can mess with your head pretty bad. Should be gone by the time you wake up.” The man said as he helped him to bed. Aziraphale was suddenly aware of black spots dancing at the edge of his vision.   
“Oh my. I’m afraid I’m about to pass out again.” He slurred sleepily, eyes closing as he felt the blankets be tucked in around him.   
“You’ll be all right. Probably better this way, I reckon. Least they won’t hurt you, this way.” The man’s breath hitched, as if repressing a sob.  
“The books…” He heard the man chuckle, felt a hand gently stroke his hair.   
“I’ll lock up, love. I do… ah, fuck it, not like you’ll remember anyways. I love you, Angel Mine.” He felt a feather light kiss on his forehead, a drip of a tear, then nothing. 

Crowley watched Aziraphale sleep for a moment, taking in the soft purse of his lips. How gently he clutched the blankets tight to his chin. The beautiful peace and serenity he radiated. The scent of old books and wine that permeated the air, filled with Aziraphale’s smell, his essence.   
He took it all in, saved in his memory like a snapshot photo, then stood, quietly closing the door to the room behind him as he headed down the stairs.   
He took in the rows and rows of shelves and books. Aziraphale’s desk, organized in tidy piles of books, notes, loose papers. He passed the table, chair and couch they always drank at together, until they babbled senselessly about nothing.   
Finally, he reached the front, the seldom used check out counter, upon which sat Aziraphale’s favorite white winged mug.   
He picked it up almost reverently before flipping the shop sign to closed, pulling down the blinds, leaving and locking the door behind with a snap.   
He got into his car, setting the mug carefully on the passenger seat before thinking twice and miracling it into a small, padded box, just in case. His one memento of the angel he’d loved.   
He pulled away from the curb, driving through the streets at a surprisingly responsible, safe, speed, heading away from the city, out into the countryside.   
He didn’t know where he was going. It didn’t matter, really. He just knew he needed to keep moving, because if he stopped he didn’t know what he would do, he couldn’t handle thinking. If he moved, he didn’t need to think.   
He could guess easily enough, what had happened. He’d felt that strange pull in his chest, that gut feeling, that always meant his better half had gotten himself into some sort of trouble.   
In the past, that would have meant an inconvenient discorporation, without his intercedence. Since the not apocalypse, however, he feared the consequences would be much more dire.   
He’d been afraid of what he’d find, this time, if he was too late. Images of a broken, burnt winged Aziraphale crashing to earth, golden blood pooling at his feet, a mangled, lifeless body, had played through his head. But this… well.   
How did this hurt more? They’d clearly wiped his memories. The stunt with the hellfire must have convinced them, for now, at least, that they couldn’t kill Aziraphale, but they’d still wanted him gone.   
He was still an angel, Crowley knew. He would have felt it immediately if Aziraphale had fallen, or been stripped somehow of his power. No, he was still an angel, all right, he just didn’t know it.   
Just like he didn’t know Crowley. Just like how by the time Aziraphale woke, he’d be nothing, not even the wisp of a dream to his angel.   
No, as far as the angel knew he was simply a mild mannered, slightly fussy rare book dealer that had excellent attention to detail and just as miraculously good luck.   
Crowley swerved abruptly to the side of the road, throwing the car into park and slamming his hands against the steering wheel.   
“Shitshitshitshitshit you stupid, STUPID angel! How could you let them do this to you, how could you leave me like this, how fucking DARE YOU!?” He screamed, gasping for air.   
He pushed open the car door, falling to his knees on the gravel paved road. He doubled over as he squeezed his arms around his middle, hugging himself tightly, forehead touching the ground as he was overcome with grief.   
Aziraphale would never say his name again, never look at him in that so soft way again, never huff in exasperation at something he said again, never laugh for him again, never lecture him on ineffability again, never… never see him again.  
At least Aziraphale wouldn’t know that he’d lost anything. That was a small mercy, that his angel wouldn’t feel this soul ripping agony, face this deathless, endless existence alone, missing him.   
That’s what was so hard, so fucking, terribly hard. If Aziraphale had been dead, that would be that. He’d be able to rage, to tear the earth apart, to rip down heaven and wreak vengeance. But he wasn’t. Aziraphale was right there, right in his bookshop, like always, but Crowley couldn’t go to him.   
They were forcing him to make a choice. Leave Aziraphale to live his peaceful life, or risk something worse. Something worse was not a chance Crowley was willing to take, not when he’d been too late to do anything this time, not with Aziraphale’s life on the line.   
His eyes blazed with sudden unquenchable fury as he pulled himself to his feet, lifting his tear streaked face to the sky. He hated Them, hated Them more than he’d thought it was possible to hate, more than words could hope to describe. He felt it burning in his heart, settling into his bones, darkening his soul. He snarled, fangs bared.   
“You will not get away with this unpunished. One day I’ll get my hands on you and you’ll learn, oh, you’ll learn, just how much agony it’s possible to feel before I rip out your heart. I love him, love him more than anything, more than this entire useless fucking world, so you’d better believe I will destroy you for this.”   
He stood, staring up at the sun, waiting for something to happen, some kind of response. A flash of lighting, a smiting beam of light, a snide face he could punch, but nothing happened. As usual, Heaven ignored him.  
He growled, stalking away, hands tearing into his hair as his growl turned into a roar, into a scream, into a keening elegy of sorrow and pain and loss and loneliness and fear and hate and 6000 years’ worth of memories and love, now lost forever.   
He screamed until his lungs were empty, until his throat was raw, until he tasted copper, until black clouds covered the sky, until the entirety of the earth resonated with his grief, trembled at his sorrow, until he fell to the ground, lungs heaving, exhausted and empty and trembling.   
He didn’t know how long he stayed there, numb, unmoving, paralyzed by the thought of endless eons spent walking the earth alone, with only this gaping hole in his chest for company, this black pit in his soul, this impossible weight on his shoulders where he’d once had light.   
He squeezed his eyes shut, taking long, ragged breaths, unable to focus, unable to stop spiraling. Pointless. This was pointless, there was nowhere to go, nowhere to escape from this poisonous truth, nowhere-  
“Crowley?” He ignored it. That voice wasn’t important, it wasn’t His, so it didn’t matter. Nothing did, nothing mattered, not anymore.   
“Crowley! Snap out of it, look at me!” A firm voice implored. A woman, brown skin, clever eyes, round glasses. He looked into her eyes, and she recoiled instantly.   
She’d never seen such utter helplessness, never felt such cold, pure despair and defeat in an aura before. Especially Crowley’s.   
“They took him… I can’t… he’s gone, he’s…” His voice was cracked, broken, barely even a whisper. It seemed to take an almost insurmountable effort to muster even those few words, then he looked away once more, eyes bleak and blank.  
“Crowley… oh hell… crowley…” She took a breath, pushing up her glasses. “We need to get out of the road can you-“ Before she finished her sentence they were on the cottage’s front stoop.   
It was so abrupt it almost made her dizzy, but she shook it off, focusing all her attention on the demon.  
Wordlessly, she tugged him to his feet, leading him into the house and up the stairs, maneuvering him into the spare guest bed.   
He didn’t speak, didn’t acknowledge her presence, seemed almost to see right through her, following her guiding motions but making no move of his own accord. She pulled the covers up over him, watching as he rolled over to face the wall, staring at it mindlessly. 

She sunk onto the window seat, twisting a stray piece of hair as she watched the demon breath.   
She’d been hiking, looking for some wild flowers and plants she needed for some natural remedies she’d been wanting to try when she heard it.   
Well, she’d felt it first. The entire woods seemed to go suddenly perfectly still. Not a leaf fell, not a twig cracked, not a bird sung, not a single animal rustled through the undergrowth. It was like the eerie calm before a tidal wave, when everything has fled and the whole world holds its breath.   
Then came the wave, that sound, that impossible, sound. It pierced into her soul, into her very being, filling her with such pure icy emptiness, such utter and complete loss, that she lost her breath for a moment. It was terrible and awe inspiring and she recognized that power instantly. It wasn’t the kind of thing one forgot.  
Those words… if he was right, and she doubted he wasn’t, if Aziraphale were truly gone, she didn’t know what Crowley would do. She’d seen the two of them, together. Crowley’s aura was so attuned to Aziraphale’s, so completely interconnected, so dependent on the angel, that losing him would be nearly insurmountable.   
She couldn’t even imagine that depth of connection being instantly severed. The thought made her shiver, and she felt another wave of empathy for Crowley.   
He’d seemed almost catatonic when she reached him, and she wasn’t entirely sure that would change anytime soon, at least. Maybe ever, but she shoved that thought aside.   
She stood, pulling back her hair in determination. She didn’t know how, but she was going to help him. She would try everything she could, do everything she could, to help fix this broken, too kind hearted demon. Whether or not he’d admit it, they were friends, and at the very least she wouldn’t let him go through this alone. She’d be there for him. She’d take care of him, until he was ready to go out on his own again.


	2. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's Aziraphale up to?

Aziraphale woke suddenly, jerking upright. He looked around, confused. Hadn’t there been someone… no, no of course not. Just the tail end of a dream.   
He dressed, nipped down to the bakery to grab a croissant before flipping the shop sign to open.   
He stood by the counter, fingers rapping out a rhythm against the wood. He had the strangest sense of déjà vu. He pondered for a moment, before shaking it off. He was just being silly. He had work to do, books to bind, that filled him with excitement. He’d gotten a few new ones in the day before but hadn’t had the chance to look them over before…  
Hmm. Before what? He couldn’t quite recall. He could feel the answer, on the tip of his tongue, but a strange fog seemed to come over his mind, obscuring his thoughts until they were just out of reach-  
The bell jingled over the door, breaking his train of thought. Soon he was lost in a discussion about little known first editions, memory lapse forgotten.   
He had a remarkably busy day. It seemed every time he was about to have a quiet moment someone else came in and he had to help them find a specific printing of a book, or try and piece together what they were looking for based on their own vague recollections of a cover and plot points.   
He didn’t mind the buzz, of course, it was nice to see so many people interested in books, but he was glad when he finally closed up for the night. Finally, some peace and quiet.   
He was wiping down the counter when he noticed the ring mark. Aha! His mug, that’s what was missing, he’d known something was off!  
“I swear, I thought I left it right here- “  
A flash of white wings  
A warm, safe light  
Endless skies  
The images rushed through his mind so fast he barely had time to process them before they vanished. He let out a nervous chuckle, realizing he was squeezing the counter so hard his knuckles were white.   
“Seeing things now? Maybe I have overdone it today. A light supper, I think, then I’ll turn in early.” He became aware that he was waiting for a response. He was sure, suddenly sure, that someone else was supposed to be here with him. Someone…  
The thought slipped away. 

“Our side… Dolphins!... run away together…” Golden eyes. Black feathers. Warmth-  
He woke, the dream already slipping from his grasp, leaving him disoriented and a bit ruffled.   
All of last week he’d had strange flashes of déjà vu, sudden unexplained feelings, thoughts that slipped away before he could fully catch hold of them, and the sense that someone important was missing.   
This week the dreams had started. They left him out of sorts and flustered, sure he was supposed to be doing something else, though he wasn’t sure what. He gleaned very little from them, but a few images stuck, a few lingering feelings.   
Yes, he was sure, absolutely sure, that he was missing someone. But how could he, when he didn’t know whom he’d forgotten?   
And every time he felt he almost had it, the answer was so close, something derailed his thoughts, broke his focus, and he lost it. It was utterly maddening.   
So today he didn’t flip the sign to open, didn’t unlock the doors, didn’t go out to get a quick breakfast. Today, Aziraphale kept the shop locked tight and took down that damn bell over the door, shoving it in a drawer.   
There had to be answers somewhere, he just had to find them. He wasn’t crazy, there was something else going on here, something else… he just had to figure out what.   
There was nothing unusual in his room that sparked a feeling or flash of memory, he’d already looked.   
He started downstairs at the front of the store, the checkout counter. That’s where he’d first felt this… wrongness. He stared down, stopping at a spot on the customer side of the counter. He felt… fear? Yes, intense fear, but not his, someone else’s. Someone… not enough. He wandered, feeling drawn next to the couch.   
Drinking, laughing, dark presence sprawled carelessly, but he wasn’t afraid… dark glasses.   
He held onto the chair for a long moment, focusing on his breathing. What was this, what was happening? These flashes, they were so familiar, so achingly his… so why couldn’t he remember? It was like something was stopping him, redirecting his mind every time he got close.   
He straightened his jacket with a huff. He wouldn’t stop. There was a strange energy building in him, almost electric, telling him to keep going. This was important, he was forgetting something crucial, something critical… desk. His desk.   
He approached it slowly, caressing its well-worn tabletop with a frown. Nothing. No almost memories, no feelings… but he’d been so sure.   
He sat in his chair, hands fluttering, where to start? He went through every annotated paper on his desk, every page of every book waiting to be read or repaired, every drawer, every inch of wood… yet still, nothing.   
“I don’t understand. I was so perfectly certain… what is it?” He muttered, dropping his head in his hands.   
It was then he noticed it. A tiny scrap of paper, barely poking out from underneath a corner of the desk.   
His heart jumped to his throat as he reached for it, carefully picking it up and laying it flat on his palm.  
The edges were singed, clearly from fire, though he’d never had any fires in the shop, thank goodness. Just the thought of it sent shivers up his spine.  
He focused, pulling on his reading glasses, leaning closer to a small lamp on the desk, letting the light fall on the scrap.   
“Choose thy faces wisely. Well what- “   
He fell back into the chair, overwhelmed by the sudden flood of images, thoughts, feelings, memories.   
A snake at the garden of Eden   
A long haired, sorrowful devil at the flood  
An exasperated smile at Shakespeare   
Crepes in France  
Saved books in the Blitz  
Gold eyes, dark wings, drawling sarcasm, repressed kindness   
“Not that you’ll remember, anyways… I love you, Angel Mine.”   
He stood so fast the chair toppled to the ground behind him. He didn’t notice. Eyes wide, hands shaking, heart beating double time as he remembered everything.   
They’d ambushed him, on his way home from dinner. It was close so he’d decided to walk. Uriel had written something on his forehead in holy oil… then it all went blank.   
Until Crowley-  
“Oh God in Heaven, Crowley…” He breathed out. He hadn’t recognized him, hadn’t remembered… he’d said I love you. Crowley loved him and he hadn’t known and Crowley thought-  
He had to find him. He had to find him Right. Now. He didn’t know what that heart broken demon would do, if he thought he’d lost his angel forever. Something incredibly stupid, incredibly dangerous… incredibly permanent.   
In a blink, he was in Crowley’s flat. Aziraphale had never actually been there before, but he barely spared it a glance. The demon wasn’t there, hadn’t been in some time.   
Tadfield. Something was pulling him there. Tadfield, the cottage, that was the only place, it had to be-  
He was on the front stoop, pounding on the front door. It was late, but he didn’t care. This panicked, blaring alarm in his soul wouldn’t let him care. He was sure, absolutely sure, that Crowley was about to do something drastic.   
“Aziraphale?” Anathema’s voice squeaked, “Crowley said- “   
“Ah, so he’s here then? Good, good, quite right. I need to see him forthwith, it’s quite complicated, I’m afraid, I’ll explain later.” The angel stammered out. Anathema immediately moved aside, letting in Aziraphale before leading him up the stairs.   
“He’s been nearly comatose. He responds to questions, sometimes. He’ll acknowledge me with his eyes, a tiny nod, something, most of the time. But… well, he’s been completely lost without you.” She pushed open the door to Crowley’s room.   
It was empty. A cold breeze blew in through the open window. A single black feather rested on the bed. Aziraphale’s heart lurched as he saw his mug resting on the windowsill. Crowley had taken it.  
“I don’t understand. He’s barely spoken for two weeks, much less moved without me goading him to, where’s he gone?” Anathema asked, shocked.   
Aziraphale’s gaze swept the room. It was impossible to ignore the thick miasma that hung in the air, almost dense enough he could taste it. It was filled to bursting with grief, tempered with desperation and a tinge of regret-  
Aziraphale gasped, stomach flipping, hand flying to his mouth. He suddenly had the terrible realization that he knew exactly why Crowley had left.   
“He wouldn’t…” He whispered, knowing full well he would, he was hopeless enough, he would.   
“Aziraphale, what is it? What’s happening?” Anathema asked, bringing Aziraphale out of his thoughts, desperate to help.   
“Anathema, this is critically important. Where… where is the nearest church?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a cliff hanger here guys, sorry bout it ;)


	3. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley does something drastic, Aziraphale has to intervene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's more to come guys, so don't relax yet.

Crowley stood on the steps, looking up. It was a rustic thing, all brickwork, old bell tower that still rang, chiming the time and calling people to prayer. He’d seen hundreds just like it, scattered throughout the world.   
He pushed the two wooden doors wide open, strolling in, passing slowly down the center aisle. He remembered another church, much grander, the only other time he’d entered one of these things.   
Then he’d danced from foot to foot, hissing at the feel of holy ground beneath his feet. Now he ignored the pins and needles burning into his soles, it didn’t phase him anymore. It couldn’t possibly hurt more than what he was already feeling, compared to the void that filled him now, it was nothing. He welcomed the physical pain, he deserved it.  
He’d spent the last two weeks replaying every moment with Aziraphale, every second, every smile, every glance, every kind word, every accidental touch, every poorly disguised blush. Every almost and could have been and what if.  
If he’d been faster, gotten to the shop sooner, maybe he’d still be his angel. But that Aziraphale was dead and gone, all their history erased, as if it never happened, a stranger where his love was once, and Crowley had realized there was nothing left for him now.   
“you as good as killed him, you know that? Is this what you wanted? Are you happy now?” He held out his arms, spinning once as he let out a harsh laugh.   
“First demon to submit willingly to annihilation. Must be real proud, up there. Congratulations, you’ve pushed the lowest of the low farther than anyone thought possible. Heaven knows I didn’t.” He passed the altar, letting out a ragged breath, raking his hand through his hair.   
It looked harmless enough, this small basin resting on a stand in the wall. To anything else, it would be. Not to him, though. He stared into it, down at his reflection. He looked like a ragged, wretched mess. His swagger was gone, his eyes bruised purple from sleeplessness, his hair sticking up at odd angles, his shoulders sagging.   
“I can’t do this without you, Angel. You’re my light, you’re my everything.” He whispered, before carefully picking up the basin. He lifted it above his head, wincing at the few drops that splashed over the edge, blistering his skin. A preview, of what was to come. It didn’t change his mind. His whole life, the only thing holding him together was Aziraphale, every breath without him felt like a knife to the gut, every second was an eternity, every moment harder than the one before.   
“I’m sorry love. I know this isn’t what you’d want, but I can’t… I’m not good enough to keep going. It’s just too hard… it just hurts so much, I’m sorry…” Crowley took a deep breath, then tipped the basin.   
“No” Aziraphale breathed out, wings still outstretched as he landed before the flung open doors, just in time to see Crowley pouring holy water over himself.   
There was a moment when Crowley looked back, smiling sadly, Aziraphale’s name on his lips.   
There was a moment when Aziraphale lunged forwards, knowing he was too far, knowing not even a miracle was fast enough.   
There was a moment their eyes met, resigned gold and desperate blue.   
Then a scream ripped itself from Aziraphale, a sound unlike any other, and time seemed to slow. He could see the drops descending, any second they’d hit Crowley and he’d be erased from existence. He would not, could not let that happen. And suddenly, he could move faster than the falling water, faster than light, faster than time. He tackled Crowley, sending them both tumbling, sprawling backwards behind the altar.   
The basin clattered to the floor, the holy water sloshing to the ground in a puddle, harmlessly trickling away. The angel and the demon both lay stunned on the ground for a moment, then Aziraphale grabbed Crowley’s shirt. A blink, and they were outside on the stairs.   
“I swear to anyone listening, I will kill you myself for scaring me like that, for doing something so… so…so idiotically hair brained only you would have the capability of even thinking it!” Aziraphale shouted, heart racing and fear still pounding in his chest. Crowley didn’t move from where he’d crumpled on the steps. Aziraphale scooted closer, realizing he was shaking.   
“Crowley? Please, please say something, dear, please…”   
“S not real. You can’t be real… don’t taunt me like this, don’t… haven’t you done enough? Not this… please… Just let me be…” Aziraphale melted at Crowley’s broken, choked voice.   
“Oh Crowley. Oh, you silly serpent. It’s me, dear. Look at me, I’m here, I promise, I promise it’s really me.” Crowley looked up at him then, golden eyes lacking any light, face so vulnerable, so desperately terrified.   
“The last thing you said to me…” Aziraphale flushed, “you called me your angel. You said… you loved me.” A beat of silence. Crowley’s eyes widened, a small spark igniting, an almost painful flash of hope, then the demon was in his arms, clinging to him as if he’d never let go, face buried against his chest as he shook, sobbing.   
“I’m ssssorry, I’m sssorry, angel, my angel, oh Azssssiraphale, I thought… I just couldn’t… you didn’t know me, you were gone and I couldn’t…”  
“I know dear. Shh, I know, I know.” Aziraphale gathered Crowley closer onto his lap, rocking him gently, surrounding them with his wings, holding him tight.   
“You’re my world, Aziraphale. You’re everything to me, you are my everything, nothing matters without you, nothing is worth it without you and I didn’t say it, I didn’t tell you, this whole time, I didn’t tell you and then you looked at me with those blank eyes and saw a stranger and I can’t… I can’t face down eternity alone… I can’t love, I can’t… I can’t…”   
Aziraphale cupped Crowley’s cheeks, tipping his head up so they met eye to eye. Aziraphale felt his own tears welling, his own sorrow at the pain he’d caused Crowley, his love for the demon almost overwhelming in that moment. He hadn’t realized how deeply Crowley cared, not really, not until now.  
“Crowley. You don’t have to. I’m here. I am here. I am not going anywhere. You… you gave me quite the scare, my dear.” He broke off for a moment, he’d seen holy water at work, he knew what would have happened, what almost happened. “Promise me, you have to promise me, you won’t ever do that again. No matter what happens, no matter what, promise me you won’t…” He trailed off, unable to suppress the image of Crowley writhing with pain, body slowly dissolving, soul corroding until nothing existed of the demon, until he was utterly annihilated.   
“I promise, Angel. I swear it.” Aziraphale let out a shaky breath, giving a miniscule nod, once again meeting Crowley’s eyes.   
“Good. Because you almost didn’t give me the chance to do this.” He leaned down, pressing his lips to Crowley’s, soft and hesitant. He felt Crowley’s shock, but the demon didn’t pull away, instead he pressed closer, until after a long moment they both broke away, breathing heavily. Aziraphale rested his forehead against Crowley’s, taking in the demon’s sweeping surprise and budding happiness.   
“I love you too, you reckless fiend. I love you so much, my dear. When I remembered, my first thought was you, what you must be going through. Just now I believe you scared me so badly I pulled your time freezing trick. I love you so much all the might of Heaven wouldn’t be enough to keep me from you and I would cross Hell and back to reach you. I will always come back to you, Crowley. I will always find you, don’t you dare for a second think otherwise.”   
Then their lips met again, and they were lost in each other’s warmth, in the sense of the other’s soul so close to theirs, in the love that radiated off each other, resonating in their bones, until Crowley’s hands were entangled in the angel’s hair and Aziraphale’s arms were around his waist and they finally had to part to breathe.  
Crowley nestled his head against Aziraphale’s neck, closing his eyes, taking in his scent, his pulse, his heartbeat, his breath, so close to him, so physically there, so much closer than he’d ever dreamed of being to the angel.   
He felt Aziraphale press his lips against his cheek, resting his own head atop Crowley’s.   
He’d been so close, so blasted close, to loosing Crowley forever. He had never in his life, never in his 6000 years, not even when facing down Satan himself, been more terrified than when he saw Crowley standing under that shower of holy water.   
He let out a small sob, burying his face in Crowley’s auburn hair, closing his eyes tight and holding him close, breathing him in.   
What would he have done, if he’d arrived too late, if Crowley had disintegrated before his eyes, if he had nothing left of the demon but his memories? He couldn’t imagine, couldn’t even contemplate it. Heaven had tried its damndest to do just that, to erase the demon completely, but Crowley was so much a part of him not even their power could make him forget.   
“Oh, angel. Angel mine.” Crowley murmured, leaning back, looking up at Aziraphale. He reached up, gently wiping away the angel’s tears, stroking his cheek. Aziraphale caught his hand, leaning into the touch before turning his head to kiss Crowley’s palm. Despite everything, he smiled radiantly down at Crowley, joy and relief flooding through him as he took in every inch of the demon. He was here. They were both here.   
“We should get back to the cottage. I didn’t have time to properly explain any of this to Anathema, and the poor dear has been worried sick about you.” Aziraphale said, taking a deep, shuddering breath and scrubbing away the last trickle of tears from his cheeks.   
“I’m afraid I haven’t been the best house guest the last two weeks.” Crowley replied, smiling weakly.   
“Two weeks. It was only that long, wasn’t it? Why does it feel like an eternity, then?” Crowley barked out a laugh at the angel’s question.   
“You think it was an eternity for you? You didn’t even know anything was wrong!” Crowley exclaimed, but he stilled as Aziraphale stood, transfixing him with those soft, blue eyes.   
“You really are unbelievable, aren’t you? I knew something was wrong every second, I could feel something missing, I knew someone was missing I just couldn’t quite place what. I was always waiting for you, looking for you, I just didn’t know it. It was quite infuriating, really.” Aziraphale held out his hand, to help pull Crowley to his feet.   
The demon took it, standing with a groan, entwining his fingers with the angel’s instead of letting go. He leaned heavily against Aziraphale for a moment, a bit dizzy.  
“No offense, my dear, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you quite so out of sorts.” Crowley rolled his eyes, but he was smiling.   
“Could say the same for you, angel. Bowtie crooked, jacket uneven, you’re practically falling apart at the seams.” Aziraphale huffed, but he was smiling, happy to hear something of Crowley’s sarcasm return to his voice.   
“I don’t suppose you’ve got the energy to miracle us back to the cottage?” Aziraphale shook his head.   
“Afraid not. The time freeze rather took it out of me, I’m afraid. Well, and coping with thousands of years of memories all at once… no I’m quite wrung out.”   
“Right, well, I haven’t slept, ate or taken care of myself in any meaningful way for the past fourteen days, so that’s that. Guess we’ll just have to walk it, unless you wanna risk getting stuck in a wall somewhere.” Crowley looked balefully down the road.  
“Crowley!” Aziraphale exclaimed, looking up once more in exasperation at the demon.   
“What? I was about to kill myself, angel, I wasn’t exactly in the best state of mind the past few days, ok?” Crowley replied, running a hand through his hair. Aziraphale flinched at his words, squeezing Crowley’s hand once. Crowley met his eyes, face softening.   
“I’m sorry love, I’m not… thinking straight.” They were suddenly in the book shop. Crowley dropped to the floor, Aziraphale catching him so they sunk down together.   
“you said you didn’t have enough to miracle us back and then you send us all the way to the shop!?” Aziraphale spluttered, arm around Crowley’s shoulders. The demon’s head hung low, one hand squeezed into a fist, trying to fend off the darkness dancing at the corners of his eyes.   
“I didn’t say I couldn’t, just that it wouldn’t be smart. Evidently my mind was elsewhere and I overshot the cottage. Walking would’ve been worse though, I could barely stand.”   
“Why didn’t you say something?”   
“You were already worried enough, look, I got us home alright? Can we leave it at that?” Crowley asked, though his voice lacked any sharpness one might expect from an argument. Aziraphale sighed, letting it go, distracted by Crowley referring to the bookshop as home.   
“Are you alright, my dear?” He asked instead as Crowley cracked a smile.   
“I will be, love. Just a bit tired, is all. Long as you’re here, I will be.” Then the darkness was all he could see.   
Aziraphale cursed, catching Crowley in his arms as the demon passed out. He cradled him in his arms, taking in the bags under his eyes, the gauntness of his face, he seemed… small, somehow.   
Of all the situations Aziraphale had imagined, Crowley pulling a stunt like that in the church had never been one of them. He’d imagined the demon would rage, would burn the world, would tear everything apart, would simmer with hate and anger until he destroyed himself. He’d never imagined Crowley just… shutting down. The demon was always filled with so much action, so much energy, he’d never even imagined Crowley… giving up.   
He’d been so defeated. Aziraphale had never seen Crowley so vulnerable. In all their meetings he circled constantly around the angel, looking for trouble, ready to strike, to defend. To fight for him. He was ready to protect his angel against anything or anyone.  
But here he was, utterly spent, trusting the angel to take care of him, trusting that Aziraphale wouldn’t let anything happen, trusting the safety of the bookshop, of home. Aziraphale pressed a kiss to the top of Crowley’s head.   
“Let’s get you settled in, my dear. Then I ought to call Anathema, let the poor girl know you’re alright.” He murmured, heart melting as Crowley let out a small, contented sigh, resting his head in the crook of the angel’s arm.   
He settled Crowley on the couch, having to gently pry the demon’s fingers from his coat which they clung to tightly. Crowley made a little noise in his sleep, reminiscent of a pup calling for its mother.   
“I’m right here, dear. I’ll be right back, I promise.” Aziraphale assured him, smoothing back Crowley’s hair, loathe to leave his side, even though the phone was only a few steps away.


	4. An Enemy Appears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone unexpected shows up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a shorter one, but there'll be two or three more chapters, I'm thinking, so stay tuned.

“Aziraphale, what the hell happened!?” Anathema picked up on the first ring, clearly agitated.   
“He’s fine, I got there… I got there just in time.” He heard a heavy breath, a thump as she no doubt collapsed into a chair. She listened as Aziraphale summarized all that had happened, the sigil, the forgetting, the paper.   
“Good old Agnes.” Anathema muttered. Then, “Are you all right?” she asked, surprising Aziraphale. He stumbled over his thoughts for a second.   
“Oh, don’t worry about me. We’re back at the shop, the silly fool decided to miracle us but was so out of sorts he sent us all the way here instead of the cottage.” A small laugh from Anathema.   
“Doesn’t surprise me a bit. You’ll have to pop back over later to get the Bentley, it’s starting to make Dick Turpin jealous.” She teased, taking a breath.   
“… he’d do anything for you, you know.” Aziraphale rubbed his temple.   
“Yes, well, that’s rather what I’m worried about after tonight. I’ll talk to you later, dear, I should get back to him.” Aziraphale heard Anathema’s goodbye, then hung up the receiver with a sharp click. He sighed, straightening his jacket, if it weren’t for the stress of the evening, he’d be deliriously happy right now, Crowley was with him and they were together.  
“You just don’t quit, do you?” Aziraphale jumped to his feet, thoughts crashing down around him as he spun to face that voice, eyes narrowed, fists clenched.   
He was standing behind the couch, violet eyes glinting as he looked down at Crowley, sneer on his face.   
“Pathetic. You choose this… creature… over Heaven? I mean, look at it, no grace, no light, just a void incapable of love.”   
“Really.” Aziraphale scoffed, “You wouldn’t know anything about love, I doubt you’ve ever felt it in your entire life.” Aziraphale responded, trying to keep the panic budding inside him at bay. Trying to keep Gabriel’s focus on him. Gabriel smirked.   
“We did try to play nice, you know. Erasing your memories, letting you lead a dull, simple life… but you had to ruin it, didn’t you?” Gabriel circled around the couch, looming above Crowley, head slightly tilted.   
“I was pleasantly surprised. We had you out of the way, and he almost took care of the rest himself. It would have been… so fitting, you remembering just in time to watch the demon destroy himself. Like one of those Greek tragedies from back in the day. Instead I’m once again having to deal with you.” Gabriel scorned.   
“Why are you here?” Aziraphale asked, mouth dry. He felt paralyzed with fear, Gabriel was so close to Crowley, and the demon was completely defenseless. He watched Gabriel’s every movement, every twitch, every flash of emotion and every posture shift. He was wound tight, he would not fail his demon.   
“Well, since our softball approach didn’t work, it’s time to play hardball.” He paused, looking down at the demon, a falsely soft expression on his face. “I’m just doing you a favor, really. He’s just using you. They don’t feel like we do, they aren’t capable of it.” He considered the demon, who mumbled something unintelligible in his sleep. “He does look so peaceful with those dreadful eyes closed, though, doesn’t he?” Gabriel crouched, reached out a hand towards Crowley’s cheek, in an almost motherly way.   
“Don’t you touch him. Don’t you dare.” Aziraphale felt a surge of fear, of protectiveness. Of rage.   
“Hmm, or what? I’m Archangel fucking Gabriel, what do you think you could possibly do to stop me?” Gabriel paused, sly smile on his lips, eyes flashing.   
Aziraphale had never felt this helpless. Gabriel looked back at Crowley, stroked his cheek once in a perverse show of hate. Crowley flinched back, letting out a small wounded hiss. That’s what did it.   
“No.” Aziraphale’s voice was strong and sure as he took a step towards Gabriel, the word resonating around the room. Gabriel raised an eyebrow, standing, suddenly drawing a shining sword out of thin air, tracing Crowley’s jawline with it. The demon jerked back in his sleep, almost like he’d been burned, and curled up tight in a ball.  
The sword of an Archangel. That would annihilate Crowley as surely as holy water, but Aziraphale barely saw it, barely cared. His world was only focused on the demon, on the love pounding painfully in his chest, that flowed through the bookshop, that looped around and around the two of them, tying them together through the eons.   
“No? Really now, Aziraphale. It’s cute, that you’re trying and all but it’s not actually a choice.” Aziraphale took another step. He felt his wings expand from him, felt power growing in his soul, felt a soft glow start at the tips of his feathers.   
“You will. Not. Hurt. Him. I will not let you. I will not lose him again.” Gabriel’s eyes widened, sensing the shift in the atmosphere.   
Aziraphale was glowing, blazing like a living star. His eyes shone crystal blue, his whole body was suffused in a painfully bright light, and it filled him from head to toe with love, love so immense it couldn’t be put into words.   
Love that spread across time, across centuries, across Eden and Hell, across arguments and fights, across reunions and arrangements, across kindnesses and hopes. Love in the form of trust, that his demon would let himself be perfectly and completely exposed, completely vulnerable and defenseless, that he would choose to whole heartedly put his faith in what should be his enemy, that he was trusting Aziraphale to protect him.   
Faster than Gabriel could react, he was shoved backwards. Aziraphale stood before Crowley, wings outstretched to their full span, blocking the demon completely from view.   
“What…. How…” Gabriel stuttered, sword hanging limply from his hand, forgotten in the blaze that was Aziraphale.   
“Don’t quote me on this, but I believe the Almighty approves. Love conquers all, and all that. Something you will never understand. Now,” Aziraphale held out a hand. From the writhing light grew a pommel, then a shining, pure white blade, wreathed with holy light that shimmered like dancing flames, flames that were reflected in his eyes.  
Aziraphale settled into a fencing stance, wings up behind him, eyes blazing. “You are not welcome here. You will not take him. Now get out of my book shop!” Aziraphale shouted, voice shaking the window panes, rattling the bookshelves, echoing through the room. Gabriel stood frozen for a moment, gaping like a fish at the pure white light that was Aziraphale, before clenching his jaw and vanishing.   
The sword vanished as Aziraphale immediately turned his attention to Crowley, sitting on the couch beside him, placing a hand against his cheek. Instead of pulling away, Crowley leaned into the touch, nuzzling Aziraphale’s hand, eyes flickering open.   
“Angel? Why’re you so bright?” He asked, squinting. Aziraphale smiled warmly, leaning down and kissing the tip of his nose as he stroked Crowley’s hair.   
“It’s nothing, dear. Everything’s perfectly fine. You can go back to sleep.” Crowley smiled blearily, then rolled onto his side, kissing Aziraphale’s knuckles before slipping back into unconsciousness.   
The light slowly faded from Aziraphale, leaving him shaky and adding to his already immense exhaustion. He wanted nothing more than to curl up with Crowley, to bask in his warmth, but he was too jittery for that. It felt like at any moment one side or the other would come crashing into the shop, catching them unawares.   
He took a few long, deep breaths, trying to recenter himself. Too much had happened tonight, his mind was lagging behind, new nightmares dancing behind his eyes, a sword dripping red, dim golden eyes, limp, dark wings. He shuddered, stroking Crowley’s hair to soothe himself and the sleeping demon. He was so tired.   
“Rest, Aziraphale, guardian of the eastern gate. I will keep you safe, my child.” The voice was soft and sweet, the sound of summer days and clear blue skies, whispering through his mind. He recognized it immediately, though he hadn’t heard it in centuries.  
“Respectfully, it’s not my safety that concerns me.” He murmured aloud, looking down at his auburn demon. He could feel Her smile in the warmth that flooded him, could almost see sparkling, gentle eyes.   
“No harm will befall your demon, either. You have my word. Expect me soon, Aziraphale. We need to talk.” The presence faded, taking with it the last of his strength.   
He stretched out against Crowley, who shifted, rolling over and wrapping his arms around Aziraphale’s waist, pulling him close. Aziraphale sighed, nestling against the demon’s chest, reaching up to tip Crowley’s head to his, kissing him softly once, before closing his eyes, inordinately pleased that God had called Crowley his


	5. She Arrives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> God did say they'd talk soon...

Crowley jolted awake, flailing, landing on the ground with a thump and a groan. He was breathing heavily as he pushed himself up. He’d rolled off the couch, where Aziraphale still lay, sleeping soundly.   
Slowly, Crowley took a deep breath in and out, trying to calm his racing heart. Aziraphale was right there, and everything was alright. He stared at Aziraphale’s sleeping face, half smiling. He let out a low breath, then dropped his head into his hands, shoulders shaking.   
He’d almost destroyed himself because he thought he’d lost Aziraphale, but he’d nearly done exactly that to his angel. Because he was a stupid, useless, fool, he’d almost abandoned his angel. He’d almost inflicted the pain he’d been unable to bear upon his love.  
“Crowley?” Aziraphale murmured, kissing the top of his head, resting his head on Crowley’s shoulders. Crowley swiped his eyes, trying to hide his sniffles.   
“Hey angel. How you feeling?” His voice wavered, but his smile was genuine as he tilted his head against Aziraphale’s.  
“I should be asking you that, my dear.” Aziraphale replied, kissing his cheek softly, then Crowley turned his head and their lips met for a lingering moment.   
They both started as they heard the door open, the bell jingle.   
“You locked up, didn’t you Angel?” Crowley asked, as he pushed himself to his feet, despite every muscle protesting.   
“I never opened yesterday, and last I checked that bell was in a drawer.” The angel replied, voice low. He could see the tenseness take over Crowley’s body. It was something in his posture, times like this he could practically see the snake inside coiling, ready to strike.  
“Not expecting anyone, I assume?” Aziraphale shook his head as the soft steps grew closer, getting up and standing beside the demon. Then his eyes widened as he remembered the night before, realizing exactly who it might be.   
“Ah, actually-“ he tried to warn Crowley, but then She came into view. She had pale blond hair, sparkling blue eyes, soft, smiling lips. Aziraphale gasped at the amount of love radiating off of Her, infusing the bookshop, the immense sense of safety.   
Crowley was a different story. In a second, he swept Aziraphale directly behind him, flaring open his wings so they shielded him on both sides, eyes blazing and teeth bared.   
“You…” He snarled, strung tight as a bowstring.   
“Crowley, dear, calm down, its-“   
“I’m well aware of Who exactly it is, Aziraphale.” Crowley snapped, eyes locked on the woman.   
“Hello, Raphael, Archangel, Aziraphale, guardian of the eastern gate.” Aziraphale’s jaw dropped, peeking over Crowley’s shoulder.   
“WHAT? Crowley, I didn’t know, why didn’t you say-“   
“because that’s not my name, not now, anyways. She’s the one who made sure of that. Would you get back down, angel?” Crowley lost his venom, looking at the angel, raising his wings higher to block his view.   
“My child-“ She started, but Crowley cut her off with a sharp bark of laughter.   
“I am not yours. Don’t you dare call me yours. You lost that right when you threw me down to Hell. How many angels did I help, how many did I heal, how many stars did I make for you, did I throw into the sky, and still just a few questions were enough to convince you I was what? Ruined? Stained? And all this time, all these years, you never once showed up, never once answered me, left us to clean up your own damn messes!” His fists were clenched, the gold of his eye expanding across the whites. His skin was becoming slightly leathery as well, and darker, as he half shifted into a serpent for better defense. He held his ground as she took a step forwards.   
“What is it you think I am here for, Raphael?” She asked, endless eyes meeting his. He refused to be caught in that endless abyss, he used his power, his imagination, to be brave, to shake away Her influence, to stay standing despite everything in him wanting to collapse.   
“You will not take him. I have lost him one too many times, you will not make him Fall. He’s a better angel than any of those other idiots you’ve got running around, and I will not let Hell have him. He will not lose his grace, he will not be cast out, he will not feel that endless pain, he will not die like Raphael did. I Won’t. Let. You. Have. Him.” Crowley’s voice was a hiss, and he stood tall, imposing, eyes burning and muscles bunched to pounce. Any other creature would be quaking in fear.   
Something did flash across Her face, so fast he couldn’t decipher it. She came closer, one slow step at a time, and still he refused to budge, refused to let Aziraphale peek out from behind his wings, until She was a step away from him. He waited for a smiting beam of light, a shower of holy water, for her to simply erase him from existence for his defiance. She could do what she liked, but he would not stand down.   
“Crowley!”   
“What, Angel?” He snapped, risking a glance back at Aziraphale, who had been gently tugging on his wing throughout this exchange, trying to get his attention.   
“She helped us last night!” Crowley’s face crinkled in confusion.   
“What? When? What are you talking about, Aziraphale?”   
“If you would just calm down for one blasted minute and let me explain-“   
“Oh, I’m sorry, yes, God is just standing here in front of me, but no, take all the time you need.” Aziraphale huffed.   
“Well, really, there’s no need for that kind of attitude. Honestly, Crowley, where are your manners?”   
“I’m a demon, my manners went to Hell and stayed there.” They were interrupted by Her sparkling laughter, like a bubbling brook. She reached out, resting a hand against Crowley’s cheek. He flinched, but her eyes caught him in their gaze, holding him steady. They were filled with warmth and light and… regret.   
“You’ve been through so much, Raphael. So much hurt and pain. And I am deeply sorry for it. But you must see that it was necessary. It is what brought you two together, it is what stopped the end of the world. This path has been far more difficult than I desired for you, but it has led to such love.” He looked away, feeling the sincerity in her words.  
“I was happy, for once. If you mean that, why did you almost take that away from me, how dare you try and take my love away from me?” Crowley asked, wings drooping, voice filled with burning sorrow. He felt Aziraphale slip a hand into his, and he squeezed it tight, letting the angel step out from behind his wings, letting his defenses fall away now that it was clear his angel was safe.  
“Some of the angels seemed to be under the impression I had given orders to be carried out. They were mistaken. Quite mistaken, in fact.”   
“You expect me to buy that? You literally know everything, you couldn’t spot a few angels plotting right under your nose?” Crowley snorted.   
“It was Gabriel, dear.” Aziraphale said, voice low. Crowley looked down at the angel, who fiddled nervously with his jacket.   
“Come again?”   
“Gabriel was here. Last night. You were rather… incapacitated, and he decided to… well, to end you. She granted me the power to stop him.” Crowley’s eyes widened as a flash of a memory trickled in, something cold against his throat, a looming presence.   
“You’re not hurt, are you? He didn’t do anything to you?” Crowley asked, turning to Aziraphale, looking him over carefully, trying to spot any injury.   
“I’m fine, dear, really. You’re the one he… well.” Crowley swept Aziraphale into his arms, holding him close for a moment.   
“You are the biggest fool I’ve ever met, angel mine. You were going to fight Gabriel?” Aziraphale laughed, pulling away.   
“Crowley, I do have excellent swordsmanship. And a few minutes ago, you were going to fight God, and you’re calling me the fool?”   
“Yeah, well, that’s still not out of the question.” He replied, turning back to the woman who had been taking all of this in so calmly, small smile playing across her lips.  
“So, what exactly do you want, then?” Crowley asked. Aziraphale glared at him. “What? It’s not like she usually just shows up for a chat. If it were that simple maybe one of my THOUSANDS of prayers would have been answered.” Crowley emphasized the word thousands, glaring back at Her.   
“Gabriel has been punished, as well as Uriel and Michael. I gave them a chance to redeem themselves, and they instead chose the path of hate. It’s become clear to me I’ve been too lax in the care of my children. I didn’t come to fight, or to punish. I come with an offer.” She paused, eyes dancing.   
“I want my children to move forwards, to grow out of their hate. I want you two to teach them. To lead by example. I’m offering you both the positions of Archangels.” Aziraphale’s eyes widened, and he looked up at Crowley, excitement electric.   
The demon’s face was a mixture of longing and sadness, bitterness and ire. Slowly, he shook his head.   
“No. Ooohhh no you don’t.” He shook his head, “All I want is to be left alone. You abandoned me. You abandoned all of them! What did you expect us to do, besides get angry!? Now you want us to fix your mess for you, again? You think waving a title under my nose is going to erase any of any of it?!” Crowley shouted, blinking back tears of fury and sorrow. He would not cry, not in front of her.   
He remembered heaven. Remembered the endless skies, the beautiful gardens, the flowers, oh, the flowers. He remembered his brothers and sisters, coming to him with scrapes and cuts, after tussles or training, and he’d helped them all. They’d been so radiant, in their light, so hopeful, so full of dreams. He remembered, when Michael and Gabriel and Uriel were his friends, almost as close as you could get, when they’d painted the sky together in shimmering lights, though it had been eons since he felt anything besides spite for those three. He remembered the light that had burned inside him, that once filled the void that now sat heavy in his chest, that wondrous grace that was written into every fiber of his being, that had been burned away when he fell, snuffed out like a candle.   
“I Fell,” He choked out, “because I asked questions. That’s what they charged me with, anyway, and it was enough. You never took the time to care why they really wanted me gone. It’s because I was helping them, once you cast them out. You made me a healer, and Raphael refused to discriminate against whom he helped.   
I lost count of how many there were, all their names, but I remember every one of their faces. I held them, closed their wounds, healed their burns, fixed their wings. I comforted them as they cried, I tried to fill the void inside them, I was the only one who gave a damn what was actually happening, and I will not turn my back on that choice just because it’s now convenient for you. I fell for doing exactly what you’re now ordering us to do.” His voice was low, heated… sad.   
“No. No, you can fix this one yourself, it’s high time you do you your own dirty work, it’s the least you owe them. You made them what they are, that’s what you chose, after all. Now deal with the consequences.” He spat. His burning eyes refused to meet hers as he brushed past, just far enough from her reach she couldn’t touch him.   
“I am proud of you, Raphael.” He didn’t acknowledge Her words, didn’t look at Her, only sparing a glance back at Aziraphale, hesitating at the door.   
“When you’re done here, you know where to find me, angel.” Then he bit his lip and looked away, letting the door slam behind him as stalked down the street. Aziraphale watched the door for a long moment before letting out a rough sigh.   
“That… that could have gone better.”   
“He didn’t take a swing at me, so it could have also gone worse.”


	6. Moving Forwards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reminiscing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the end, for now. I do have a small sequel I'm working, so stay tuned for that! Thanks for reading, if you've gotten this far you're the best!

He collapsed onto a bench in St. James park, where the two of them had met over the centuries hundreds of times to talk and feed the ducks. He rubbed his forehead, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. He was still so tired. He was still half sure that this was a dream, and when he woke Aziraphale would have forgotten him all over again. He couldn’t deal with this right now, he didn’t want to.   
And then Her, waltzing into the book shop, talking to him, as if she had any right to ask him for anything, as if after everything he owed her a single fucking thing. No, no he’d played that game one too many times, he knew how it ended. He just wanted to be free of it all.   
She couldn’t have stopped the apocalypse, that much he would admit. The angels would have stood down if she’d ordered, but hell would never have stopped. The antichrist, at least, had been inevitable. Of course, none of it would have happened in the first place if she hadn’t started her little crusade against the now fallen.  
They hadn’t always been so hateful, so angry and cruel and terrible. That came from centuries of darkness eating away at your soul, that came from a void that ate you alive, it came from the endless pit of nothingness that burrowed its way through the veins until you stopped feeling anything but despair and rage and hopelessness.   
No, he remembered the newly fallen. They were just angels, after all, but stripping away their grace, it damaged them irreparably. It’s what allowed that darkness to take over. Humans were a combination of both light and dark. Angels were pure light. When that was taken away, there was nothing left but the black.   
How many, had he watched slowly grow more and more bitter, starting with Lucifer? He had healed his wounds, his bloody palms, his deep gashes, he had held him as he cried out against the unfairness of it all, had shushed him and rocked him and mourned with him and felt nothing but sympathy. Slowly but surely, no matter how good they were to start, they succumbed to that emptiness inside.   
“Do you know,” He took a breath before continuing, “do you know, when I fell, what the angels did? As they read off my charges, as they cast me down? They jeered and screamed and would have torn me apart if they thought that would be worse than what I had coming. I’d protected them, nursed them, treated them, dedicated everything I had to helping them, and they turned against me, like that.” He snapped. “It didn’t matter what my charge was, it didn’t matter if it was true or not. As soon as they accused me, I was damned.”  
“Do you know what the demons did?” He asked, opening his eyes, tilting his head just enough so he was looking at Aziraphale, who had sat down beside him some minutes ago, knowing Crowley would talk when he was ready.   
“They caught me.” He swallowed hard, trying to keep the pain from overwhelming him. “They caught me, so my wings didn’t shatter as theirs had, they held me as I screamed, they rocked me and cared for me and accepted me. Because even after they’d fallen, that’s what I’d done for them. I was the last angel to fall who kept the use of his wings, whose weren’t mangled beyond repair, because they caught me. because they knew I wouldn’t be able to heal a damn blade of grass if I tried and if my wings were the only thing, they could save for me, they were going to do it. In that moment they showed more compassion than all of Heaven ever had.” Crowley raked a hand through his hair, trying not to shake at the memories.   
“Losing your light destroys you, especially if yours is as strong as mine was. As bright, as mine was. It eats away at you until you corrode entirely. That’s why they are the way they are now. That’s what I would have become, despite myself, eventually. But then there you were, standing on that wall. Telling me you gave away your sword. Because you cared. You cared enough to defy everything.” Crowley smiled sadly, looking back to the sky. “From then on you were my light, Angel. You kept me sane, you kept the dark at bay, just when I thought I was about to lose myself you’d turn up, somewhere or another, love. Or I should call you Archangel Aziraphale now, I suppose?” Crowley asked, closing his eyes, feeling a tear trickle down his cheek. He could still feel that searing, bone rending agony, fire in his veins tearing him apart, burning out every strand of light, every heavenly chord in his body, ripping out his heart and devouring his soul until he didn’t recognize himself anymore, until his very core was a perfect stranger.  
“Crowley…” Aziraphale breathed out. He felt the angel move closer, but he stayed still, shaking his head.   
“I can’t go back up there, Aziraphale. Not after everything I’ve seen, everything I’ve seen them do. Not after falling. They were supposed to be the good guys. I was such an idiot, I believed it, too, I believed they were good and just and right until the moment I fell. I was sure they would stop, sure they would listen, sure I could explain and they would understand and see… you were so much like me, Aziraphale. That’s part of why I loved you, at first, you were so blind and trusting and I knew you’d get hurt for it, sooner or later. But I missed that faith. Being able to have that faith, in them.” He broke off, opening his eyes as he felt Aziraphale wrap an arm around his shoulders.   
“Crowley-“   
“It’s alright, love. You always were the best of them. Of any of us. I’m sure you’ll do great up there, I’m sure you’ll actually change things, especially with Her backing you. You’re the one thing I do believe in, the only one who has all my faith. Just do me a favor and don’t get too busy and forget about me, maybe visit once and a while. Oh, and if you see Gabriel, punch him in his pompous face for me, would you?” Crowley said, trying to hold himself together, trying to keep his tremulous voice from breaking as he stood to walk away.   
“Crowley! I said no!” Aziraphale cried out, grabbing Crowley’s wrist. For a moment he stood frozen, dumbfounded.   
“What? You… what? Aziraphale, are you fucking kidding me?” Crowley looked back at Aziraphale, who shook his head, splitting smile on his face.   
“I turned Her down, you silly serpent. I’m not going anywhere, and I’m certainly not forgetting about you ever again.” He pulled a stunned Crowley to him, taking both the demon’s hands in his.   
“Why… Aziraphale, don’t say no cause of me. I want you to be happy, don’t-“   
“I’m happy wherever you are, Crowley. I know you’re not ready to go back yet, I know you might never be, and that’s alright. I wouldn’t dream of going without you, my dear.” He tugged Crowley back down onto the bench, the demon opting to sit on his lap instead, arms around the angel’s neck, face against his chest. Aziraphale rolled his eyes, hugging Crowley tight anyways.   
“I never knew-“   
“It wasn’t me anymore angel, it didn’t matter. Raphael died in the fall.” Crowley mumbled into his shirt. The angel huffed.   
“That’s not what I was going to say. I was going to say, I never knew that’s why you fell. For helping them. You’ve always been far kinder than you’ll admit, my dear. You never seem to give yourself enough credit for how amazingly good you are.” He felt Crowley’s low chuckle rumble through his chest, before the demon slid off his lap, letting out a sigh as he rested his head on the angel’s shoulder.   
“Being good isn’t exactly a good thing for a demon. None of them remember who I was, not after so long, I made it a point not to bring it up. Better for everyone, that way. It’s not something any of us like to dwell on. Who we used to be.” Crowley replied, closing his eyes, nuzzling closer to his angel.   
“She’ll be leaving us alone. The offer is open, if we ever want to accept it, we’re welcome to. The angels are under orders we’re not to be disturbed, and they’ll be making sure the other side leaves us alone as well.”   
“Mmm. Good.” A pause.   
“She did… she did leave something for you, if you want it. I wasn’t sure you would, after everything you said.” Crowley felt the angel shift, pull something out of his pocket.   
“It won’t change you… not really. It’ll just give you back what you lost. It doesn’t mean you’ve accepted her offer, it’s no strings attached. She just thought, well, you ought to have it. Ah, here it is.” Crowley’s breath caught in his throat.   
He could feel it, now that Aziraphale was holding it, now that it was near him and out in the open he could feel it so very clearly calling to him. His eyes flew open as he stared at the plain, silver locket Aziraphale carefully held in his palm.   
“How… it all burned up… that’s what happens, like an infection, it burns away… that’s not…” Despite his own disbelief, he knew it was his. His heavenly grace, his power, stripped from him in the fall. The part of his soul that was a void, that filled him with darkness, that missing piece of him, was somehow, somehow right in front of him.  
“Not all of it, dear. She saved it, for you. She saved one for all of them. Just in case.” Crowley’s eyes flicked to Aziraphale’s, wide and full of hesitancy, as he reached out, gently lifting the locket, letting it dangle from his fingers.   
“I don’t know if I remember how to use it. I don’t know… Azsssiraphale, I don’t know if I want to be an angel again…” He whispered, swallowing hard.   
“I told you, Crowley. It won’t change you, not like that. It’s just the part of you that you lost when you fell. You’re not beholden to anyone if you use it Crowley, not Heaven or Hell, just to yourself. Just to your own side.” Crowley closed his fist around the locket, looking at Aziraphale with a crooked smile.   
“Our side, love.” He stood, sliding the silver chain over his neck, tucking the locket under his shirt against his heart. He reached down, helping Aziraphale to his feet.   
“I’ll… I need to think on it, love. I don’t want to rush into it, I don’t want to be used or play their games again. I need to be sure, before I do this.” Crowley said, looking out over the pond.   
“I know, dear, I know. It’s, well, it’s been a rather eventful day, hasn’t it?” Aziraphale replied, letting out a small laugh as he tugged on his jacket. Crowley bumped his shoulder softly, getting the angel’s attention before kissing him, savoring the feel of Aziraphale’s soft lips against his, the angel’s taste of chocolate, his burning warmth that at the moment was directly focused on Crowley.   
“I’d say,” Crowley said softly, less than an inch away from Aziraphale’s face, “that I’m still rather spent. I wouldn’t be adverse to a few more hours, curled up with you on the couch.” He kissed Aziraphale again, a quick peck on the cheek, then strolled down the street, grinning as the angel trotted to catch up, having been momentarily stunned by the kiss.   
“Cheeky bastard, aren’t you?” Aziraphale huffed, slipping his hand into Crowley’s.   
“You knew that when you fell in love with me, angel. I dare say it’s a part of my charm.” Crowley waved away Aziraphale’s words with a flashing grin that lit the angel up. Another step and they were inside the bookshop. Another tug and step and they were in the bedroom. Crowley raised an eyebrow and Aziraphale blushed.   
“Comfier than the couch, I figure. More room, less chance of someone falling off and waking me up like a complete oaf.” Aziraphale teased. Crowley let out a small snort, sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling off his shoes before snuggling under the covers.   
Aziraphale climbed in beside him, turning so he faced Crowley, sighing and curling up against him, Crowley’s arms wrapping around him, holding him in a cocoon of warmth.   
He could feel the love radiating off the demon, the pure, brilliantly endless love that stretched between the two of them, pulling them together. Crowley kissed his forehead, resting his face in Aziraphale’s soft, white tipped hair, closing his eyes.  
“G’night, angel mine. My light, my love, my world.” Crowley murmured sleepily, already starting to doze off. He had not nearly recovered from the past two weeks, and the stress of the day had not helped his exhaustion.  
“I love you dear.” Aziraphale murmured back, smiling as Crowley let out a huge sigh, his breath steadying to an even pace as he started to snore. Aziraphale snuggled closer, safe in Crowley’s arms, letting his demon’s heartbeat lull him asleep.


End file.
